The one Neal hated, but not really
by elizabethhadley13
Summary: As growing up, Neal believed he hated his mom. Now he realizes that maybe he didn't. (Post-season 4 or 5)


**AN: I don't really know what this is, but anyway! Sorry for any mistake (english is not my mother language)  
**

Neal's mother always told him not to cry in public, where everyone could watch. She would say it was weakness. He hated that. He hated her. At least, he _used to_ hate her.

He would watch her cry herself out in the depth of her room every night from the doorstep. She would manage to not make a noise, so that Ellen wouldn't find out. She would curl herself on the more distant side of her bed and silently break down.

He used to think she was a hypocrite. He hated how she would make herself so strong and brave all day to come home and cry in a corner, out of everyone's eyes.

She didn't believe in nothing, too. Ellen would be insulted when she asked if she could take Neal to church. But Neal didn't mind, he would have more time to play. She didn't believe in any god. In fact, she barely believed in something at all. She wouldn't believe that he could succeed if he failed once. She wouldn't believe in finding happiness. No, she would drown herself in alcohol. And Neal hated that.

Neal hated to see her drunk. He would never know if she was going to laugh, so hard her cheeks would turn bright pink, or to scream at him, because of his father, with tears on the edge of her eyes but she would only cry alone.

At some point, the alcohol was not needed. She would change her mood easily. He hated her mood changes so much.

Sometimes, she would get so unhappy and depressed for weeks, or even months, she would barely get out of bed – even though she wouldn't sleep anything too – and wouldn't eat at all. Her body would show every bone and scar she had. God, he hated her scars.

She would hurt herself intentionally. She would grab a knife and open her wrists and tights. Her chest and belly was also covered in scars, but those were older, from the reason she wouldn't sleep.

Then, some days later, she would jump out of bed with all the energy in the world. Those were the best days for Neal. His mom would sing, dance and teach him how to paint. She could be barely kept at home, preferring to visit museums, the zoo and other stuff he would usually have to ask Ellen for.

She would sing to him. He loved to hear her sing so much. Her voice would fill his ears with happy songs.

The rest of the days were filled with such rapid mood changes that even Ellen would fear her. Those were even worse than the depressed ones.

But even in the happy days, she would always cry at night. And Neal hated to see her cry, not just because she was being a hypocrite, mostly because he hated to see her suffer.

One day he came close to her and, with his seven year-old innocence, asked why she was so sad. She stared at him and whispered how much she loved his dad. He shut up and listened to her crying about a man he could barely remember. She would barely talk about his dad. Then, out of the nothing, she looked at him and, smiling, told his dad was the blue in his eyes.

He kissed her goodbye and ran down the hall to look at himself in the mirror. He kept looking at his eyes, hoping to find his dad, but he could only see his reflection.

That night, his mom was the one to put him on bed. She sang him a song to fall asleep while petting his hair. He later woke up with her waking screams from a nightmare.

As he grew up, he became more and more irritated with his mother. He would see his friends' parents doing and buying what his aunt Ellen had to because his mother wouldn't be able to even move a muscle from her bed. He hated her even more.

He began to get into ugly fights and smashing things. People would blame teenage hormones and lack of parental figures. He would scream at her, asking for a reaction. But her only reaction would be to shiver, stare at the wall and stay shut.

That was when he began to smoke and drink. He was pretty popular for being on the football team and had a womanizer reputation. Sooner, the parties he attended were filled with popular kids drinking and smoking pot for having a good time.

He could say that what saved from that reckless life him were his art classes. His teacher, not much older than him, encouraged him to paint like he used to as a kid. He was actually pretty good at it, his mother had taught him well.

He and his teacher would stay after classes with him painting her or someone else, and she watching him paint. She knew about the all parties and his lifestyle. Slowly she saved him from the downhill spiral his life was becoming.

It was one of those days after classes, that one thing led to another and they kissed. They both knew they had fallen for each other, even if they wouldn't tell.

But then, his eighteenth birthday happened. He was so shocked, upset and mad that ran in that same night. That day he found out why his mother was such a wreck, and he hated her even more.

He hated her _and _his father so much. He tried to hate Ellen, but her green teary eyes and breakdown she suffered telling him the truth made it impossible.

Now he looks at the door. He doesn't hate her anymore. His anger towards her didn't simply dissolve, but slowly started to fade. His mother is besides that door, moving on, he guesses and secretly hopes. But he's selfish enough for forbidding her to do that, so he gets out of the car.

Peter nods with his head and gets out after him, following closely behind. Neal can feel his nerves wrecking his courage. But he doesn't stop walking, this has to be it.

He stands in front of the door and knocks nervously. A humming he assumes it's her's stops and a yell announces she's coming. He can hear her heels click against the floor as she comes close to the door and the humming continues.

The door opens to reveal her. Age didn't do much to her in eighteen years. She was some wrinkles and some grays, but she looks gorgeous like she always did. She stands, the humming ceased, with wide grey eyes and mouth slightly open. Her laced dress is all black, matching her heels.

"Neal?" a faint whisper barely gets out of her red painted lips.

"Hey" he stands, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets..

"H-hey" she returns shuttering, looking at the ground and at him again in disbelief.

"So, there was a robbery in an art gallery…" he informs her.

"Yeah" she nods "I know, seen it on the paper."

"I found out you were living here now and I decided to see how you are doing." he asks, his hands still on his pockets "I'm sorry."

"Me too." She laughs unexpectedly "I never got the chance to tell you that." she remembers. Neal chuckles a little. She looks at him hesitantly before asking "Do you wanna come in?"

"Sure."


End file.
